Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Aaron’s mouth twitches. “Busy.” He gestures to the table. “Would you sit with me?”
My chin notches. “Do I have a choice?”
“Of course you have a choice.”
The arena hums around us, cavernous and cold. The candle in the center of the table flickers as if threatening to go out if we dawdle long enough.
I glance over his shoulder.
The Zamboni driver is not gone.
He’s at the far end of the rink, leaning against the machine like a man who didn’t clear his evening for rink maintenance and is now here for drama.
“Is he on payroll for this?” I murmur.
Aaron doesn’t turn around. “He’s been compensated for his discretion.”
I blink. “You paid him?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I tipped generously.”
Wow. Looks like every man in existence is conspiring against me.
Lucky me.
Aaron pulls out the chair in front of him, palm up, motioning for me to take a seat.
Grudgingly, I place myself in the chair. It scrapes faintly against the protective flooring laid over the ice. I glance around again to see if there are any details I haven’t caught, but things appear as they should be, quiet and deserted.
Oddly enough, this is the most intimate and vulnerable I’ve felt with him.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I state plainly.
The sentence hangs between us.
He doesn’t so much as react. “That’s fair.”
Fair.
That almost irritates me more than if he’d argued.
I swallow and sit back in my chair, crossing my arms to let him know I’m not falling for his handsome face, his deep voice, or his apologies so easily.
Ha!
“One of my conditions,” I remind him smartly, “was that you make things right with my brother.”
The dimple appears in his cheek. “I know.”
I stare at him.
“And?”
“And… I did.”
“You did?” I blink at him several times, growing more and more frustrated the longer we sit here in the cold, side-stepping the problem. “Could you be any more vague.”
Aaron chuckles, reaching for the wine bottle on the table. He pulls the cork out and pours a bit into my glass—then his.
“You’re so fucking cute when you get annoyed.” He takes the glass and sips from it. “I like this side of you.”
How dare he call me cute when we’re in the middle of a negotiation! What does he think this is, a date? Who does he think I am? Someone who caves this easily?!
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t.”
He pauses mid-sip. “Don’t what?”
“Deflect.”
“I’m not deflecting.”
“You are. I asked you what happened with my brother, and instead of answering me, you’re flirting.”
His mouth curves, but at least he has the decency to set the glass down.
“Okay,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I won’t flirt.”
The cold from the rink seeps through the thin soles of my unsensible shoes, but I don’t waver. I refuse to back down or give him the satisfaction of thinking I’m uncomfortable.
“I need specifics,” I continue. “Not ‘yeah we talked and it went fine.’ Not ‘it’s been handled.’ I need to know when it was, and what was said, and how you resolved it. Because if I’m stepping into something with you, I want to know the two of you can co-exist.”
Before he can respond, I see someone skating toward us wearing black slacks, a crisp white button-down, bow tie, and—dear God—an apron tied around his waist.
As he gets closer…
“That’s my brother.”
Aaron nods. “That is, in fact, your brother.”
“But…”
What the heck is he doing here?
Declan kicks up ice when he skids to a stop near the table, a sparkling mist of ice crystals dusting Aaron’s sweater.
“Oops. I slipped.” He winks at me.
Declan wobbles to the edge of the carpet rolled beneath us, jaw tight like he’s doing advanced math in his head to stay upright. A silver tray is balanced on his hand.
He keeps his attention on Aaron. “Sir, I apologize for the minor inconvenience. Our rink conditions—as you know—can be unpredictable.”
Aaron looks him up and down, a huge grin spreading across his face. “I can’t fucking believe you’re wearing an actual bow tie.”
My brother reaches up and plucks at it. “Thanks, I borrowed it.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! What on earth is going on?
What is happening?
“Hi. I hate to interrupt this newfound bromance of yours, but would either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?”
“You asked him to talk to me,” Declan tells me. “Obviously, he did.”
Aaron’s gaze drifts to me. “I followed directions.”
Declan straightens, looking far too pleased with himself for a man dressed like a rejected groomsman. “And as part of that agreement,” he continues, “I am contractually obligated to deliver dessert—and refrain from violence.”
Aaron nods. “Appreciated.”
“We’re demonstrating maturity,” Declan adds, jutting his chin out proudly.
Aaron nods solemnly. “We’re showing real growth.”
Right.
Growth.
In thirty-six hours.
There’s a smile on my face as I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from grinning. “You’re both… insufferable.”
“I love you, Jules,” Declan continues. “You’re my baby sister. You’re, like, the only person I can fully trust. The last thing I wanted was for you to be hurt by my stupid mistakes.”